Xtreme Talent
by Zeplerfer
Summary: Reality-show host Arthur Kirkland doesn't understand how the talentless American singer managed to survive until the final round, but it seems that Alfred F. Jones has a surprise in store for him. USUK. Reality TV AU.
1. On Stage

**Summary: **Reality-show host Arthur Kirkland doesn't understand how the talentless American singer managed to survive until the final round, but it seems that Alfred Jones has a surprise in store for him.

**Pairing:** USUK!

_Emma = Belgium_

_Rahul = India_

* * *

From his judge's perch near the stage, Arthur took a sip of water and turned to face the cameras, ready to begin filming. This season had been worse than most, thanks to one particularly aggravating contestant named Alfred F. Jones, and Arthur was more than ready to be done. He saw the countdown, cuing him to give the opening spiel.

"Ladies and gents, welcome back to the final round of 'Xtreme Talent: International Edition,'" he said.

He didn't smile as the opening theme played, but no one really expected him to. The 'mean judge' on any talent show was _required_ to be a curmudgeon, and Arthur always played to type. It helped that it matched his normal personality. He also threw in a dash of sassy gay judge, because that was also his type.

"I'm your host, Arthur Kirkland, once again bemoaning the atrocious spelling of the American producers. Joining me tonight are Emma Peeters, a judge from the Eurovision Song Contest, which is tragically stacked against the U.K., and Rahul Mishra, a Bollywood song producer."

"Oh, Arthur. Are you ever going to give that up?" Emma asked. She smiled at the camera from her middle spot on the judge's bench. She was the kind judge, the one who could find at least one thing she liked about every contestant and every performance, even if it was just his or her enthusiasm.

"Never. And I think the U.K. has an excellent chance this year."

"I meant the spelling part," Emma teased.

"Well, 'Xtreme Talent' is ridiculous. The show should be 'Exemplary Talent,' and it was better when it was British."

"Worse teeth though," Rahul joked. The final judge was the funny one. He usually gave tips on costumes and choreography. He winked and flashed a sparkling white grin.

The audience laughed, Arthur scowled, and the show continued on as normal.

Before each contestant took the stage for their final performance, the directors showed a short video covering the highlights of the contestant's 10-week journey through the show. Arthur sat back in his seat and grimaced as the clip for Alfred F. Jones began to play. He didn't need a video to remind him of the American, each of their encounters was already perfectly branded in his brain.

It had gone poorly from the very beginning, when the producers, being American, decided that a "Disney theme night" was the right way to start the show. Arthur thought it was a hackneyed plan. Alfred, of course, loved the idea. With his broad, gleaming smile and handsome physique, he sang "I Can Go The Distance" from _Hercules_ as his first song. A perfectly immodest choice for a completely immodest young man. But the fans loved him, no matter how vociferously Arthur critiqued his performances. In fact, sometimes it seemed that they loved Alfred even _more_ when Arthur was particularly harsh.

As an homage to Arthur's snarky style, the video on the center screen replayed some of his finest insults:

"Well, 'Hercules,' if your lifeguard skills are as terrible as your singing, a lot of people must drown on your beach. Of course, if you sang while you tried to save them, the drowning would probably come as a relief."

"Someone should call PETA, it sounded like you were strangling a cat."

"Let me put this in terms you'll understand. Watching that performance was a bit like ordering a hamburger and only getting the bun."

Each time, Alfred just smiled at him and laughed. That was the most aggravating part! The other contestants either responded to his advice or got angry, they didn't chuckle like it was a joke. Like he could _sense_ that Arthur was being extra mean to compensate for his instant physical attraction to the handsome American. Stupid sexy American with his sparkling eyes and nice smile and gorgeous body and on-air admission that he swung both ways. Arthur refused to let any of it influence him.

Instead the Englishman kept giving Alfred low scores on his performances, hoping to boot him from the show, but Alfred was the audience favorite and their votes saved him week after week. And Alfred played his role perfectly to win their votes. He picked love songs each week and sang them directly at the cameras so that his fangirls and fanboys would rush to the phones and text their support. The other contestants branched out into different genres, but Alfred stuck with the Disney love-song theme. Arthur didn't even realize that there was a _Cinderella III_ or a _Lion King II_ or some other mass-produced dreck designed to bring in money and votes for Alfred.

As the video shifted to behind-the-scenes interactions, Arthur nearly groaned when he saw one of his most embarrassing moments with Alfred begin to play on the screen. He hadn't even realized that someone was filming them as they grabbed sandwiches in the green room after a show!

"They're only voting for you because you have a great body," Arthur grumbled, glaring at Alfred over the American's heaping sandwich.

"Do you really think so?"

"It's certainly not your singing talent."

Alfred grinned. "No, I mean, do you really think I've got a great body?"

Arthur's normal wit escaped him. He huffed and rose to his feet. "That's not what I meant!" he protested, even though it was true. He escaped the room as quickly as he could, but not soon enough to avoid Alfred's parting comment.

"Hey, if I told you that _you_ had a great body, would you hold it against me?" the American called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Arthur could hear the audience tittering, but he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the screen. The clip continued to show Alfred's face after their encounter. To Arthur's surprise, the American's shit-eating grin softened into a genuine smile. Could it be...? Where had that look of fondness come from and why hadn't Arthur noticed it before?

It seemed that there was a lot that he had missed. The person who put together the video had found every furtive glance between Arthur and Alfred, every sigh that hinted at unspoken feelings, and every secret smile. Arthur was glad his thick stage makeup hid a blush. He wondered how he could have missed the signs for so very long.

Finally the video shifted to interviews with Alfred as he prepared his last song and performance. Arthur watched with avid interest, while pretending he wasn't interested at all. He thought that Alfred had spent the past 10 weeks trying to annoy him, but now he wondered if the young man wasn't actually trying to _impress_ him. Their past encounters took on a new, promising complexion as Arthur ran through them in his end.

"There's something I've been working up to for these past few weeks," Alfred explained on the screen with his trademark 100-watt grin. "Because there's a reason that I've always wanted to be on this show, and it's too good of a chance to pass up." He actually looked a little bashful near the end of the clip. "I hope he likes it," was his final cryptic statement.

The stage lights brightened, and the crowd cheered as Alfred took the stage. The American looked stunning in a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and pressed trousers. The clothing hugged his body tightly enough to hint at the muscles underneath. (Since Arthur had seen Alfred occasionally help stagehands carry props around backstage, he could confirm that the young man did indeed have excellent musculature.)

Arthur recognized the opening notes to the love song from _Hercules_ and grudgingly admitted that it was a suitable choice to bring Alfred's performances full circle. But he gulped, shocked as the American began to sing. Alfred actually _had_ been listening to his comments about pitch, tone, and tempo! And instead of facing the cameras, Alfred was looking directly at Arthur as he crooned the song beautifully. The sparkle in his gaze and the tremble in his voice was turning Arthur's insides to mush. The Brit barely noticed the backup singers, his gaze was so focused on Alfred, and Alfred alone. The song enthralled Arthur so completely that he didn't even noticed when it ended.

There was a moment of silence after Alfred finished. Arthur was supposed to be the first one to give his comments, but his own thoughts were a jumble.

"Bravo!" Emma filled the silence as she congratulated Alfred. "That was lovely. And let me just say," she added with her characteristic cat-smile, "that making Arthur speechless takes _extreme talent_."

"Your costume is wonderful. Dressing up was definitely a good choice. And I liked the backup dancers, but thought you could use a few more," Rahul said.

"I don't think the rules even allow backup dancers," Arthur said, finally finding his voice. He mentally kicked himself as he saw Alfred's smile slowly fade to a plastic grin. Somehow, without even noticing it, he had become an excellent judge of Alfred's fake smiles compared to the genuine ones. He much preferred the real ones.

"Don't you have anything else to say?" Emma asked.

Arthur cleared his throat as the other judges looked at him expectantly. "It was flashy and clichéd, you still need to work on your sharps, I think that the dancers' toga costumes are ridiculous, and as for the song choice... well, I'm afraid I can't say it on daytime television without getting complaints, so I'm just going to have to tell you backstage."

Alfred grinned and nodded. He ended up placing second, but spent the rest of the show looking like he had won the greatest prize in the world.

* * *

**Omake!**

_One hour later_...

"Does anyone know why the green room is locked?" a stagehand asked.

Emma smiled to herself. "I have two guesses, and they both start with the letter A," she whispered to Rahul.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed! :)_


	2. Back Stage

Arthur may have _slightly_ rushed off the stage as soon as the studio crews stopped filming, briskly walking past the cameras whilst ignoring the crew's knowing smiles, but he slowed down, caught his breath, and straightened his clothes as he approached the green room. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find the room empty except for Alfred.

The first-place winner was undoubtedly celebrating with her friends and family at the nearest restaurant, the third-place winner was most likely consoling herself at the nearest pub, and that left Alfred to snack on the wide assortment of chocolates and sweets in the green room. It was the perfect opportunity to have a little heart-to-heart, Arthur told himself, as he closed the door and cleared his throat.

"Ah-hem."

The American whirled around and dropped a handful of Belgian chocolates on the ground. He fumbled to pick them up and gave Arthur an apologetic grin. "Hey," he said, fiddling with the chocolates as he set them back on the table.

"'Allo," Arthur replied, unsure what to say next and wondering what had happened to his usual facility with words. He could deliver an insult with cutting wit, but compliments were more difficult.

Alfred shifted. "So, did you, um..."

"I liked your song," Arthur blurted out.

"Really?" The American grinned, his smile showing genuine happiness instead of his usual cockiness. Arthur was surprised at how well he had learned to read the other man's smiles. This one softened and curled inward as Alfred added, "I mean, I thought you would."

"Yes, well, most love songs are too direct, but this one hinted at the yearning instead of being blunt. I liked the subtlety."

"Me too! It reminded me of you."

Arthur blinked. "...excuse me?"

"You know, saying one thing, meaning another. Acting like a hissing cat when you're purring on the inside." Just in case his meaning wasn't clear, the American began to sing from the chorus, "_You swoon, you sigh, why deny it, uh-oh_..."

Arthur's face dropped. Before Alfred could insult him any further, he turned on his heels and strode toward the door. No matter how attractive the other man was (so very, very attractive... no, _focus_ _Arthur_!), he refused to be compared to a hissing cat or a swooning maiden. How foolish to think that Alfred actually liked him! The younger man was just looking for a chance to have a joke at his expense. But Arthur found his way blocked at the last moment as the American singer raced forward and jumped between Arthur and the door.

"No wait!" Alfred cried as he plastered his back against the door. "I'm bad at this," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I joke when I get jittery and it makes it seem like I'm not serious."

"I find it hard to believe that you suffer from stage fright." Arthur crossed his arms, trying his damnedest to maintain his irritation when confronted with earnest eyes begging him for a second chance. The two were standing far too close for the Englishman's comfort. He could see how soft Alfred's hair looked up close, and only a thin bit of cloth separated him from those rippling muscles that had filled his dreams for weeks.

"I've had a crush on you since the show started," Alfred confessed, and _that_ certainly tore Arthur's attention away from the taut pectorals. "Hell, the whole reason I wanted to try out in the first place was to get your attention."

"You have an odd way of showing it," Arthur complained, although in hindsight the choice of love songs wasn't that strange. It was actually a direct approach. He kicked himself for not noticing it sooner.

"Well your way is even stranger," Alfred said with a laugh, undoubtedly referring to Arthur's biting insults and constant scowls. "It's kind of cute though. Did you know that your eyebrows shift inward just a bit when you mean an insult in a teasing manner?"

Arthur blushed and hastily pushed his fringe down so that it covered his thick eyebrows. While he had been busy examining Alfred's smiles, it seemed the other man had been studying his 'cute' eyebrows. Judging by Alfred's current grin, the other man liked what he saw.

"So, what's the verdict? Do I get to go on to the next round?" Alfred asked.

"This isn't a game," Arthur warned, remembering his past flings with men who were just using him for their own purposes. He didn't want to believe that Alfred was like that, but the problem with performers was that they were too good at acting. Arthur didn't intend to be so prickly, he just didn't want to get hurt again. Still, Alfred had waited until the _end_ of the talent show to make his feelings known and that was an encouraging sign.

"It's never been a game to me," Alfred said, completely serious for once. He gently cupped Arthur's jaw and leaned closer. "May I?" he breathed.

Pleasantly shocked by the tingle in his stomach and the use of proper grammar, Arthur murmured his assent. Between one breath and another, their lips met, softly first and growing more passionate as Arthur pushed his body against Alfred's. Arthur had never actually expected to kiss the American singer, but he had still built up in his mind a fully-fleshed idea of what the kiss would taste like. Too much tongue, too little technique, he thought. A hint of bubblegum and coca-cola. The rim of Alfred's glasses pressing into his cheek. For once, reality was far better than his imagination. Although there _was_ too much tongue (soft and warm and gently massaging his), suddenly it didn't matter because Alfred was really kissing him in the flesh. The young man kissed the way he sang, completely sweet and earnest. And what he lacked in technique, he made up for with sheer enthusiasm.

When Arthur finally pulled back for breath, he searched Alfred's eyes for a hint of deception and finally nodded, satisfied by what he saw. "A date sounds lovely," he purred.

Alfred grinned. "Great! Coffee, tea, or me?"

"Mmm, two out of three."

"Well, we've got tea bags and hot water over on the table. So... do you want to make out on that couch like bunny rabbits?" he asked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the comfortable beige sofa in the corner. It was a bit quick, but Arthur couldn't say no after ten weeks of longing.

With a slight smirk, the Brit arched an eyebrow, realizing that it _did_ shift inward slightly when he was teasing instead of genuinely annoyed. "Do you know how many celebrities have copped off on that couch over the years?" he asked.

"Nope, but I'm guessing it's about to go up by two!"

"Don't be presumptuous," Arthur chided him teasingly. "You aren't a celebrity... _yet_." Licking his lips, he reached his arm around Alfred's backside and casually slipped his hand lower and lower until he found what he was looking for.

With a quick flick, Arthur locked the door. Alfred loved the crowds and the crowds love him, but for the next hour, he was going to be Arthur's alone.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Yes, I know I marked this complete. But I give in easily to compliments :)

No smut though. This is Xtreme Talent, not XXXtreme Talent!


End file.
